The Apartment - Part 3

[Ferd]

Jane and Wanda stood side-by-side in what Sal Sandoval had described as the “DIY slave training” room.

Wanda McMillan was the closest thing Jane had to an adult friend. Most of her high school friends had moved or gotten married, she hadn’t made any real friends at community college, and working two jobs plus caring for her mother left precious little time to socialize, so work friends were what Jane was left with.

That said, Jane liked Wanda a lot. She was a self-made woman: after her mother died and her father was crippled in a traffic accident, she had taken over the family plumbing business at nineteen and made a pretty good go if it. She had won the contract from iSmart to be the on-call plumbers, but unlike the Sandovals she had won it fairly. It was through her work at the apartments that she and Jane had become friends, becoming close enough that Wanda sometimes rode with her during her Öber shifts “to keep her company,” but probably also to keep Jane safe on Friday and Saturday nights.

Wanda was tough and smart, and Jane admired her.

Wanda was also a lesbian.

Jane had no problem with that, though the Church kinda did; as far as she was concerned, being an out lesbian in a male-dominated field was just further proof of Wand’s self-confidence and all-around bad-assery.

Jane had shown Wanda the cage, the gym bag, the books, everything; Wanda had largely refrained from commenting so far.

Wanda pushed the long dog chain with the toe of her work boot, causing it to scrape along the floor. She wore her usual work uniform of jeans and a blue short-sleeve work shirt with the company logo screen-printed over one pocket, with a long-sleeve t-shirt underneath. Her dark blonde, almost brown, hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her tanned neck, and her high, sharp cheekbones moved slightly as she chewed over her thoughts. Jane looked at the cord-like neck muscles leading down into her shoulders - Wanda did some sort of really involved workouts, like CrossFit or something, and it kept her in very good shape.

Wanda finally spoke. “If I had to guess,” she said, trying to prevent her slight Texas accent from escaping and not quite succeeding, “I’d say it’s one of those programs like the ones where they get men ready for a stretch in the Pen. You know, teach ‘em how to crap in public, not drop the soap in the shower, not fuck around with the La Familia guys, that sort of thing. Except in this case, for a woman who’s about to become a slave.”

“That makes sense,” Jane said. “Aside from the chains and the cage, I’m not seeing evidence that anyone was kept here against her will, and the tenant herself called us to break the lease, so I don’t think there’s anything illegal going on.”

“Yeah?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow. “What would that look like?”

“No scratch marks anywhere. Nothing broken, no signs of a struggle. No attempts to unscrew the eyebolt from the wall. No blood anywhere, other than that little bit on the whip I showed you, and no evidence that any was cleaned up - some is always left behind. No lock on the outside of the closet door or the door to this room. No privacy curtains, no butcher paper or aluminum foil covering the windows. No food crumbs or waste left in this room, meaning she likely didn’t eat in here so she didn’t spend all her time in here. No sign of drugs of any kind, in any room or in the trash, no hypodermics, no empty bottles, no scorch marks, nothing.”

“Damnation,” Wanda said under her breath, smiling, then to Jane: “I reckon those detective novels are paying off, huh?”

Jane blushed.

“So what’s the favor?” Wanda asked, looking over at Jane.

“Mr. Setzler wants to flip this apartment as soon as we can, but I could use a couple of days undisturbed in here to look over everything and see if I can figure out what happened,” Jane said, not looking at Wanda. “If I tell him there’s a plumbing problem, would you tell him it will take a couple of days to fix it?”

Wanda looked at Jane for a moment, then put a hand on her shoulder, turning Jane to face her.

“Is this really about some ‘Nancy Drew’ business, or is there something else goin’ on?” she said, lowering her head and gazing at Jane from underneath her eyebrows.

Jane raised her head and but didn’t look directly at Wanda, hesitating.

“You can tell me,” Wanda said, her voice low and gentle. “Nothing you’re likely to say will make me think any less of you.”

“No, no,” Jane said. “That’s it, I just need some time to go through everything, see if I can find some clues before I throw everything out and clean up the place. It’s just interesting - you know I’m kinda thinking about going back to school for criminal justice, maybe join the police department.”

Wanda nodded. “Okay, I’ll call the leasing office right away.”

————————————————————————

Alone in the apartment again, Jane knew right away what she wanted to do first — she’d been working up the nerve to do it since last night.

Returning to the training room, she opened the gym bag and took out a few items, placing them carefully on the floor in front of her, before standing straight up and looking into the mirror.

What she’d told Wanda was technically true - she really did want to figure out what had happened to Aubree. But she also wanted to figure out some things about herself.

Jane shucked off her shoes and socks, one foot at a time, and placed them in the bag. Next went her belt, followed by her pants, which she neatly folded and placed into the gym bag. Watching herself in the mirror, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the nicest underwear she owned: a white bra with a little bit of lace and a matching set of panties with lace around the waist. Jane owned nothing nicer, much less lingerie - she’d never needed any before, and couldn’t justify spending the money anyway.

Folding her shirt and putting it away, she admired herself in the mirror for a minute. She liked how this particular bra made her breasts even more shapely and firm than they were naturally.

Oh yeah, girl, she thought, you’re at least as hot as Aubree.

Taking a deep breath, she stripped off her underwear and put it away too.

After all, slave girls are kept naked.

Jane buckled on the leather collar, admiring herself in the mirror. She held her arms over her head, imagining what she would look like if her arms were tied that way, displayed for her master, or for potential buyers at a market…

Enough stalling, she thought, swallowed nervously, and picked up the gym bag and the items from the floor and carried them all into the closet.

She set the bag on the other side of the cage, then knelt down to prop her phone against the wall, its camera lens aimed at the cage. Closing the door and turning off the light made the little room dark, so she waited a few minutes for her eyes to adjust. With the light coming from under the door, she could see well enough to continue.

Jamming the door shut with her multitool, Jane turned her attention to the cage. She opened and closed the cage door a few times, confirming that there was no automatic lock, but it did have a latch that held it closed. Jane then reached over and started the video recorder on her phone.

Crawling into the cage, she had just enough room to turn around and pull the items she needed into the cage. Then, swallowing hard, she closed the cage door, listening to the soft click of the latch.

She took the ring of keys, reached through the bars and pushed them underneath the nearest corner of the gym bag, making sure they were close enough for her to reach.

Jane took a bar in each hand and shook it — no sound, nothing, the cage was very solidly built.

She glanced over at the screen on her phone, The sight of herself, naked, collared, and kneeling inside a cage, was exciting.

Jane ran her fingers along her vagina’s outer lips. Slightly caressing her slit, inner thighs, and playing with the the neatly trimmed hair on her mound, she could feel her skin warming up and her breathing getting shallow.

She felt incredibly naughty. Even a little dirty. What had gotten into her?

Without her thinking about it, her middle finger was on her clit, rubbing little circles. Thinking about last time, she used her other hand to touch her aroused nipples, lightly pinching them. Jane let out a little gasp, then grasped her left breast in her left hand and started to squeeze.

Before she knew it, her other hand was rubbing faster and faster on her clit. She slowed down, and brought her left hand to her pussy. She never put her fingers inside herself while masturbating, but today was special: she pushed in one finger, then two, and hooked them slightly, trying to reach her G-spot (or at least, where she thought it was). She didn’t quite succeed, but feeling the insertion and the warmth inside her and the sheer depravity of it all excited her further. She sped up her other fingers on her clit until she felt the familiar tightening of her body, the goosebumps, the hard crinkling around her nipples.

Jane came, hard.

Then she imprisoned herself.

After resting in the blissful aftermath for a few minutes, she gathered the gym-bag items together and set to work.

First went the leg shackles onto her ankles, those at least were already familiar. Then a ring gag into her mouth, the ring behind her teeth, fastening it behind her head. Finally, she took the stainless steel handcuffs - her hands shaking as she did - and closed one cuff over her right wrist, then put her hands behind her back and closed the cuff over her left wrist.

Jane was completely naked, collared like a slave, bound, gagged, vulnerable, defenseless, unable to escape anyone who might find her.

She twisted and pulled against the handcuffs, but they didn’t give an inch.

She leaned against the side of the cage, feeling the bars against her skin, unyielding.

She ran her tongue around the hard metal ring in her mouth: she had chosen this one, rather than the more comfortable options, because the idea of having her mouth forced open and ready to receive anything offered to it was insanely hot. She couldn’t even threaten to bite it off, she just had to take it.

Jane once overheard Joaquin boasting to his crew about how big his dick was, and she imagined him finding her, here, like this. He’d laugh at her - because that’s how he is - then pull out his big cock and tell her to get it hard for him. She’d stick her tongue through the ring (she also stuck it out in real life) and run it over his cock head. Jane wondered if he was circumcised? She guessed he probably was, though it wouldn’t make any difference to her - she’d make it work.

Running her tongue along the shaft of his penis, she’d—

The front door opened.

Jane heard the door swing open, a rattle of keys and the murmur of voices.

Masculine voices.

Crap! She thought. Was I in such a hurry to get Wanda out and get going that I forgot to throw the bolt?

She held perfectly still, trying to listen.

A laugh. That was Joaquin, no doubt about it. What was he doing here?

She could hear several pairs of booted feet walking around in the apartment, and the clunk of tool bags and other heavy things being dropped on the floor.

They’re starting early, she thought. The jerks couldn’t even honor their own schedule. And it sounded like they brought their entire crew of guys with them.

Pairs of boots were fanning out across the apartment. Jane could hear muffled conversations, but couldn’t make anything out.

Then the door to the training room opened.

Two pairs of boots walked around the room, chuckling and making low remarks in Spanish. A third pair walked in and she heard Joaquin’s voice.

“Just strip all this stuff out and pile it out in the breezeway. Miss Janey can figure out what to do with it from there,” he said, and the three of them laughed.

One of them said something in rapid Spanish - to fast for Jane to make out, but she heard ropero, Spanish for “closet.”

“It’s just a privacy lock, you can open it with a finish screwdriver,” Joaquin said. “Here, let me show you.”

She saw shadows under the closet door, then heard a scraping sound and the doorknob twisted back and forth.

Jane’s stomach twisted into a knot, she had literally stopped breathing, and she was fighting the impulse to clamp her eyes shut.

Mother Mary, what have I done? she thought; she only wanted a little sexy fun, playing around alone for a bit, no harm done. No boy had ever even seen her fully naked!

When that door pops open, she’ll be at the utter mercy of Joaquin Sandoval and six or more strong, virile young workmen. She imagined them laughing at her, the gag preventing her from calling for help, then dragging her out of the cage and running their rough, calloused hands over her smooth skin, her bound hands unable to stop them: her breasts, her nipples, her thighs, her belly, her butt, her—

Jane felt something on her thigh. She spread her legs and saw a trickle of moisture running down from her vagina.

She was at once terrified, and so turned on that she was going to have a touchless orgasm ~right now~. In spite of herself, Jane writhed a bit, her body hypersensitive to everything. As her orgasm started to hit, she threw back her head and jammed her eyes shut.

But the door didn’t open.

The knob stopped rattling, and she heard the booted feet leaving the room. She heard a number of voices coming from the front room, and the sounds of heavy things being picked up and moved back out. A few minutes later, she heard the door shut and the apartment was quiet.

Then a single pair of booted feet walked into the training room.

Jane held her breath, her blood rushing to her face, more frightened than she had ever been in her entire life.

Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass.

Silence for a moment, then Jane heard the footsteps recede, leaving the room.

Jane glanced over at her phone and raised an eyebrow; her video mirror image raised an eyebrow back.

A moment later she heard the front door’s deadbolt being thrown, and the chain lock slid into place.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, Jane thought, someone knows I’m in here, they’ve locked the door and then they’ll be coming for me.

Her heart skipped a beat. It’s Joaquin, she thought. What should I do? Pretend I was jumped by a burglar and act all pissed off? Or squeal and beg like—

She heard the pair of feet walk back into the training room, and then the scraping sound coming from the doorknob that made her stomach clench. An audible click, the doorknob twisted, and the door opened, flooding the closet with light.

Wanda squatted down in front of the cage, grinning.

“We should talk.”

[jeepster]

Glad you're back writing! This is good!

[jeepster]

Thanks jeepster! Good to be back

[Belinda]

Oh I just started reading your new series got through this chapter. Looked hoping for 4 and there it was. Thank you so much dear.

Regards,
Belinda

[CommodorRaptr]

Missed you man! Happy to see you back at it!!

[gentlemanmariner]

Thanks Commodore!

[reddbunnz]

interesting scenario. one that i did not see coming.

[Jim927]

Very interesting twist that I didn’t see coming. That’s why I always enjoyed your previous stories.
Jim